


purple.

by Icanwritesee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, bit of angst sorry, but ends up with fluff, how does one tag something like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:22:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5004646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icanwritesee/pseuds/Icanwritesee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>next time came at the crime scene. Lestrade looked like he was going to say something, but one withering glare from Sherlock efficiently closed his mouth. once again, Sherlock patiently waited for the examination to end to revive whatever he was doing before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	purple.

**Author's Note:**

> this one's a bit angsty. way to end up my writing spree, I guess. sorry for that, I don't know what happened here. I had this headcannon that after Sherlock's comeback, John had a habit of checking Sherlock's pulse. so I took it and this is what I got in the end.  
> also, I HAD TO use purple shirt of sex because of the reasons.

black was always flattering. always safe. didn’t stain. you couldn’t see blood on black clothes. black showed your perfectly round bum up if you fortunately happened to be in a possession of said bum.

jeans didn’t give his bum enough justice, even the skinny ones. sometimes he did put them on, but it felt awkward, too much… fabric. space. air.

John, on the other hand, loved it when he chose to wear his jeans, so he liked to surprise him from time to time and watch his stormy iris being consumed by widely blown pupil. Sherlock felt a tang of pride every time he bent when he heard John’s voice getting huskier while chatting lazily with Lestrade in the background. 

aubergine shirt made things easier between them every time John was angry at him. he’d agree to anything to _finally_ be able to get to Sherlock’s buttons. he had this habit of smoothing the fabric of shirt when there was something troubling him. Sherlock didn’t have it in him to refuse, especially when it seemed to soothe the doctor.

*

it was a matter of comfort, actually. the Fall broke him for what seemed like eternity of pain and misery, but proved to not last forever. surprisingly, John was kind of at peace with it. his life was long enough anyway.

*

John developed a habit of casually checking his pulse whenever he could. to be sure he’s really alive. there with him. despite being _very_ dead in front of Bart’s. despite checking his pulse and _not feeling even a single heartbeat_. he didn’t remember feeling such powerful dread in his life, even Afghanistan paled in comparison.

Sherlock only lifted one of his eyebrows when he touched his wrist for the first time. he was working at an experiment in the kitchen at the time. it involved a pig’s liver and acid or something similar. he didn’t comment it, though. wordlessly let John have his moment of clarity, and then simply continued his work. it’s not like the liver will dissolve itself.

next time came at the crime scene. Lestrade looked like he was going to say something, but one withering glare from Sherlock efficiently closed his mouth. once again, Sherlock patiently waited for the examination to end to revive whatever he was doing before.

John loved him even more because of that. _he was letting him in_ instead of just pushing away like he used to before the Fall.

*

being apart for two years was agony. Sherlock always knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but he tried to think that was for _his_ John’s good. _his_ John _had_ to be safe because without John Watson, Sherlock wouldn’t have the reason to come back to London. so he made sure to protect him at all costs. that’s why he agreed to jump from the Bart’s rooftop, though.  
he won’t pretend Moriarty’s vicious sneer didn’t haunt him. _„I will burn the **heart** out of you”_ woke him almost every night. but using his Mind Palace’s wing dedicated to John helped to remind him his heart wasn’t burnt out because _his heart_ was kept safe.  
when there finally came time to come home to John, Sherlock didn’t sleep for what seemed like two or three days. he wasn’t sure. but John will notice, and he wouldn’t be happy about it.

standing at the doorstep of John’s new flat proved to be more painful than he originally thought. he was sure John was going to be angry. that he was going to shout abuse. that he was going to punch him in the end. but he didn’t. instead, he embraced him. and when Sherlock started to recover from his shock, he felt the doctor’s small body shaking. he felt something wet dripping on his aubergine shirt that didn’t fit him like before. when John’s arms finally got a bit loose, his eyes said sweet words of love and thin lips begged not to do it anymore.

how could he refuse.

after all, he _finally_ joined his heart.


End file.
